When I was a little girl, the first horse I fell in love with was named Gregory. He was a little bay horse, really almost a pony. He had a large head and big feet and I thought he was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.
Unfortunately, the place where Gregory lived wasn’t very nice and the treatment of the horses was pretty disgraceful. In fact, it almost made me want to give up on riding altogether.
Thankfully, a number of years later, I found wonderful mentors who showed me a kinder, better way.
It’s sort of odd, but even all these years later, I still sometimes what ever happened to poor little Gregory. To be fair, he was my first love…:-)
I grew up with horses—my Dad did not have the “horse gene”. He did not understand how to work with horses, and really did not understand how to raise such an animal. He was use to mules who were definitely a different breed. Over time, he came to see that there was a better way to get more from a horse through kindness than through strength or other measures. He trusted me to find that way.
I am sorry he was raised so “hard”. His Dad died when he was 12, and he became the man of this house–to earn the wages of a man for all his brothers and sisters, and half brothers and sisters, and his Mom—I guess everything was supposed to answer to the ‘man of the house’–especially the animals. He was not supposed to show too much weakness or even kindness–I am glad he found his way by the time I entered his life.
Thanks for the lovely comment. A lot of us had parents that grew up in a much more difficult time. So many things, including even the luxury of reflection, weren’t easily available to them. I’m glad your dad found his way and that you have so much compassion and understanding for why it took some time.